“Well,” Mom said as she took her plate to the sink, “don’t let all this fame go to your head. You still have to do the dishes.”
“I don’t know,” I said as I put sunglasses on even though I was inside. “I might be too busy with my adoring public. You know how the paparazzi can be.”
Mom laughed as she took off my sunglasses. While I did, in fact, start doing the dishes. I knew my place. And Mom was never going to let me forget it.
There was a knock on the door, signaling that Shelby was ready to leave for school.
“Time to go,” Mom stated as she took the dish towel from me. “Are you ready for your close-up, Mr. Watson?” she asked with a wink.
I opened up the door to a scowling Shelby. “Told you.” She turned her back to me as she started down the stairs muttering, “Pint-sized. I’ll show her what a pint-sized person can do . . .”
Well, it looked like it was going to be one of those days.
And I couldn’t wait.
So, it seemed that my fellow classmates at the Harlem Academy of the Arts didn’t read the Harlem Observer.
Although, I didn’t really know what I was expecting. But today was like any other day. Except my buddies were really proud of me.
“You do realize that your writing is going to blow up,” Jason said as we headed out of school. “Your journal is going to go viral. Just remember us lowly writers when the New York Times calls.”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I taunted him. “You look familiar, but I just can’t seem to place your name.”
Jason let out his loud, infectious laugh. “Nice to know you won’t forget where you come from, man. Hey, you up for some ball later? Got to get in as much time as we can before it gets too cold.”
“Or we could play inside?” I argued. It was the middle of October and it was starting to get chilly. I didn’t think there would be such a difference between the temperatures in New York compared to my old army post in Maryland, but this is the farthest north I ever lived. And it was cold. I shoved my hands into my pockets.
“Okay, okay.” Jason pulled his long locs back into a ponytail. “We got to toughen you up. Also, you should know there’s this stuff that comes out of the sky. It’s called snow.”
“Wow,” I replied with fake awe. “Really? Nature, man.”
Jason and I walked out of the school building to find Shelby standing on the corner, waiting for me. “I’ll give you a call later,” I told Jason before catching up to Shelby.
“Hey.”
“Hello,” she said as she unwrapped a candy bar. “You know, Watson, you were right.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. Shelby rarely ever admitted that anybody, besides her, was right.
“About what?” I asked, and then made a mental note to mark this date on my calendar. It was a pretty momentous occasion.
“Friends,” she stated as she shoved the chocolate bar into her mouth.
What? There was no way that Shelby could also be admitting that she needed a friend like me. I mean, what else could she mean. What had gotten into her? (Besides the sugar?)
She reached into her bag and got another candy bar. “Yes, having social acquaintances can be quite useful.”
Wait a second.
“How have you gotten all those candy bars if both of us have been banned from buying candy?”
Shelby’s lips curled in a smirk. “Would you care to make a deduction?”
She wouldn’t. Would she?
Yes. Yes, she totally would.
“Shelby, did you make a friend so they would buy you candy?”
She shook her head. “Not technically accurate, but excellent deduction, Watson. I have made a pact with one of your friends.”
“What! Who?”
No way would John Bryant get Shelby anything since she was his main competition in music class. I couldn’t imagine him helping her, period. Jason hadn’t said anything to me about it. Carlos was too intimidated by Shelby. That left . . .
“John Wu?”
“Yes! I discussed an arrangement with him in our acting class, and he was more than happy to oblige. I agreed to run lines for his upcoming audition for Our Town in exchange for him procuring candy on my behalf. This friend thing does have its benefits.”
Gee, thanks, Shelby. I didn’t want to explain that friends do things for each other because that’s what friends do. But I wasn’t going to argue since her arrangement with John would keep her stocked with sugar and therefore in a good mood.
As we turned the corner home, Shelby snorted. “Well, 221 Baker Street has become quite popular, hasn’t it?”
There, outside our brownstone, was a white woman staring at the front door.
“Another journalist?” I asked. This was it! We were really going to become famous! Maybe it was the New York Times!
Shelby studied the stranger for a few beats before she pointed at her. “That is, once again, your doing.”
“Oh, come on, what did I do this time?” And how come this stuff was always my fault?
Shelby cracked a smile. “No, this is a good thing, Watson. Let’s go meet our new client.”
“We have a new client. Really?”
“What can you tell me about her?” Shelby asked as we kept our distance from the woman.
“Wait. You don’t know for sure if she’s a client?”
Shelby glared at me. I should’ve known better than to question her deductions.
Okay, let’s see what I could figure out on my own. We were still half a block away so I couldn’t really examine her that close. She was probably in her late forties, with black hair pulled back in a tight bun. She was tall and thin, wearing a red jacket and leggings. The back of her jacket had something embroidered on it.
Oh, no way. It couldn’t be.
I squinted. “Are those the Olympic rings?”
“Yes.”
We were going to work with an Olympic athlete? That was so cool.
Best part: Shelby knew nothing about sports. I mean nothing. She referred to basketball as the basketball. She didn’t think sports were “worthy” of any space in her brain attic. So if we were going to be working with an athlete, I would be the one with all the knowledge. I’d be truly indispensable.
It was about time!
“Let’s go talk to her,” Shelby said.
The woman saw us approaching and looked down at her phone. “You kids from article, no?” she asked with a heavy accent. “Detectives?”
Shelby reached out her hand and said . . . something. It sounded like gibberish, but the woman looked impressed and replied to Shelby in this foreign language.
She nodded again and then, mercifully, spoke in English. “So article is true.”
I turned to Shelby. “What’s going on? What were you—”
“I simply stated that she was from Russia in her mother language,” Shelby clarified.
“You know Russian?” Come on! Where did she find the time?
“Of course! I feel it’s imperative to study up on several languages. I began in first grade as it’s best to learn languages when you’re younger. I started with Latin since all the romance languages—Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese—come from it. Then moved on to Russian and Chinese.”
I mean, really. REALLY?
I was never going to catch up to her. NEVER.
“Let’s focus on our new client,” Shelby said as she turned to the woman.
The woman gave us a serious nod. “My name is Tatiana Pamchenko. I need help.”
“Follow us to our office,” Shelby stated as she began walking up the stairs.
Office? We had an office? Most of our clients came to us at school or we went to them. What was Shelby going to use as our office? The disaster area known as her bedroom?
“Watson,” Shelby whispered as she opened the door for Tatiana. “We need to go to your apartment. Michael is home and will only be a hindrance to our efforts.”
Michael was Shelby’s older bro
ther and, well, maybe not as smart as Shelby but with the same abrupt temperament.
I opened our apartment to Shelby and Tatiana. We filed into the kitchen.
Shelby tilted her head. “I must first state that sporting activities are not my expertise, but I deduce that you coach a sport that is in the cold.”
“Yes, how you—” Tatiana began before Shelby cut her off.
“Your nose is a bit red and slightly peeling, which indicates that you wipe your nose a lot. While it could be a common cold, your jacket as well as your knit hat and gloves poking out of said jacket implies that you spend time in a cold environment. Additionally, your hair has a slight indentation where ear warmers would be. The weather outside, while cool, does not warrant those accoutrements. Especially for someone who grew up accustomed to frigid temperatures in Moscow.”
“Impressive,” Tatiana admitted. “I coach figure skating.”
Figure skating? We finally got to work on sports and it was figure skating.
Ugh, life was so unfair.
“How can we be of assistance?” Shelby asked.
“Maybe it is nothing.” Tatiana put her hand in her pocket.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Shelby replied in her usual confident manner.
“Regionals are next weekend. It decides who goes to sectionals, then nationals. My star, Jordan Nelson, is beautiful skater. Such grace and consistency. She lands every jump. She is top of her field. But she got this yesterday and everything changed.”
Tatiana pulled out a piece of paper from her jacket pocket and handed it to Shelby. On it were a few stick figure drawings that looked a little like figure skaters.
Shelby studied it closely while Tatiana continued, “After this, Jordan hesitate. No confidence. She missing jumps. I asked to tell me what means these drawings, but no answer. She no talk. There something wrong. I know her since she tiny child. She is like my own daughter.”
Shelby stood up straighter. “Is this the only one you have?”
Tatiana nodded. “Maybe just silly drawings. But way Jordan acts, makes me think it is more.”
“It’s not a drawing,” Shelby stated with the biggest smile I’d ever seen. “It’s a cipher.”
“What’s a cipher?” I asked.
“It’s a secret code,” Shelby replied. “Each of these figures represents a letter. This says something. And Jordan can read it.”
“I knew it,” Tatiana said with a satisfied nod. “I thought police would not take seriously, but then I read story about you.”
So it was because of me that she was here! Score one for Watson! (Although I knew absolutely zilch about figure skating and ciphers. Sigh.)
“Can you tell what it says?” I asked Shelby. While Shelby was smart, I had no idea how anybody could figure it out. All the figures looked alike. They only had a few small differences. A raised hand here, one foot up there. How anybody could read that was beyond me.
“No, but I presume it’s a threat,” Shelby replied.
“A threat?” Tatiana nervously wrung her hands. “Why you say this?”
“If it is affecting Jordan’s skating, it certainly isn’t about unicorns and rainbows,” Shelby stated dryly.
Good point.
“Does she have any enemies?” Shelby asked.
“Da,” Tatiana replied with a nod. “She is best skater. Many people jealous of her.”
“I would like a list of people who interact with Jordan. Anybody who would’ve been able to pass her this paper. Also, include individuals who could benefit from Jordan skating poorly. And anything you can think of that may help. I do mean anything. What may seem like a little matter to you may be significant to me. Understood?”
“Da,” Tatiana said again. I was pretty sure that was Russian for yes.
“I’ll need more data before I can crack the code.” Shelby held up the paper. “Can I keep this?”
“Da. This is copy. Here is my info.” Tatiana handed Shelby a card.
Shelby extended her hand to Tatiana. “Okay, I’ll begin working on this, and I’ll confirm a time for Watson and me to visit the skating rink and meet with Jordan. Rest assured, we will get to the bottom of this.”
“Thank you,” Tatiana said with a look of relief as she shook Shelby’s hand. “Please be quick. Cannot let silly paper ruin hard work.”
Shelby nodded. “Don’t worry, Tatiana. Watson and I are on the case.”
“Ah, Watson, what’s Shelby doing?” Carlos asked after school on Thursday.
Carlos, John Wu, Bryant, and I were hanging out near my locker, but our attention was down the hallway where Shelby was leaning against her locker, staring at a piece of paper. She’d been doing it all day. I knew it was the cipher that had her mesmerized. Well, mesmerized and really, really frustrated.
Shelby had spent our entire lunch break writing furiously in a notebook, then tearing out what she’d written and crumpling it up before starting over again. (Of course, she did find a few minutes here and there to eat an entire bag of cookies John Wu had slipped her this morning.) Shelby was distracted by the cipher all through science class also. At one point, Mr. Crosby called on Shelby and she looked up at him blankly. Everybody in class was shocked. Shelby usually answered a question before Crosby had a chance to ask it. But this time, she had no response. She probably didn’t even know what class she was in.
“She’s studying something,” I explained.
“When isn’t Little Miss Perfect studying?” Bryant snapped with his eyes glaring at her.
“Or, you know, she could be in a sugar coma, John,” I said to John Wu with a nudge of my elbow.
“Yeah, are you two friends now?” Bryant asked, his shaggy blond hair moving as he shook his head. “Is she going to start hanging out with us? Because you know I would not be cool with that. I have to deal with her in music class with her perfect violin playing and her smugness.”
John Wu pushed up his wire-rimmed glasses. “‘Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.’”
“What?” Bryant replied with a groan. “What does that even mean?”
“Ten bucks it’s that Shakespeare guy,” Carlos called out. He pointed to each of us. “Who wants to take that bet? Anyone? Anyone?”
“It is Shakespeare,” Bryant admitted.
Carlos threw his hands up. “Dude! Wait until I have a chance to get a bet going before you prove I’m right. Come on!”
John turned toward Bryant and said, “What it means is that I don’t want to get on anybody’s bad side, especially Shelby Holmes’s.”
Oh, how right he was.
“Yeah, you really shouldn’t let her get under your skin so much,” I argued to Bryant. Believe me, I knew how easy that was for her to do, but Bryant needed to accept the fact that Shelby was the best violin player and smartest student in class and move on. We all have seemed to accept it. I mean, not like we had a choice.
“So should I start buying her sugar?” Carlos asked as he quickly stole a glance at Shelby. “What kind should I get her? And, more importantly, would it stop her from snorting in class when I get an answer wrong?”
“Probably not,” I replied with a laugh. Shelby couldn’t be bribed.
“YES!” Shelby screamed loudly as she slammed her locker door. She spun around so she was facing me. “Brace yourself, Watson,” Shelby called down the hallway.
I pretty much got used to bracing myself whenever she spoke. I wonder—
Before I could even start to guess what she was going to do, she took off in a full sprint down the hallway.
And she was running straight at me.
“Shelby!” I cried out. “What on earth are you doing?”
The guys took cover, while I did just as Shelby instructed and braced myself, because Shelby Holmes barreled right into me. I took a few steps back from her impact, but luckily didn’t get knocked over completely.
“Whoa,” Carlos commented. “Someone get that girl on a football team stat.”
“Don�
��t let me move you,” Shelby said as she then started pushing me from all sides.
“Shelby!” I said as I reached out and held her by the shoulders. “Stop.”
She took a step back and looked me up and down. “Can you pick me up?”
“Ah, yes. And at this point I’m tempted to do just that and throw you in that garbage can over there,” I replied with a scowl.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Watson,” Shelby said with a tsk. “I’m simply testing your balance.”
“Couldn’t you have chosen a different location to do that instead of the school hallway?”
I mean, really. For weeks I’d been enduring Shelby’s quizzes and tests on everything from micro-facial expressions to fingerprint analysis. Now she wanted to test my balance. By tackling me. At school. In front of my friends and classmates.
“Hey, Shelby,” Carlos said as he took another step away from her. “Quick question: What’s your favorite candy? ’Cause I wouldn’t want to get you something you don’t like, and it’s so not a big deal to do it. Like, do you offer protection of some kind? Is there a payment process we can discuss?”
She ignored Carlos and continued her focus on yours truly. A few times she would elbow me, but I remained dead still. I wasn’t going to have her humiliate me. Well, any more than she already had.
After a couple more minutes, I finally had enough.
“Could you just—”
Shelby cut me off with a raised eyebrow. “You should be happy, Watson. You get your wish.”
“What wish? I’m pretty sure I never wanted to be made a fool of in front of the whole school.”
A smile spread on Shelby’s face. “We’re going undercover.”
It was happening!
John Watson: secret agent.
Yeah, I kind of went undercover when we went to retrieve Mr. Crosby’s watch, but this was different. I’d have time to prepare and fully become someone else.
I, John Watson, was going to be a man of mystery! I was going to be like James Bond and have cool gadgets! I was going to make a mission impossible, possible! I was going to . . .
The Great Shelby Holmes and the Coldest Case Page 2